Rating: M

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyers owns all things Twilight - I just like to get weird with her characters.

A/N…Much love and thanks to my beta LovinRob for all of her encouragement and hard work on this story! Without her OCD and her cock/pussy thesaurus, this fic would be a hot mess of past and present tense and the word erection used repeatedly…

Many thanks to AmandaC3 for creating the marvelous banner for this story and the Togaward bonus banner. I wouldn't believe it was possible – but she made Rob hotter by wrapping him in pink bed sheets…

And it's time for the aftermath…

Chapter 5 - Goodbye My Lover

I don't remember walking back to our dorm room. I don't recall emptying the contents of my stomach repeatedly. I am not positive that I actually overheard Tanya whispering on the phone to someone, clearly debating the pros and cons of seeking medical attention for me. After what I guess would be about 4 hours of solid sobbing, my body finally gives way to sleep.

Waking up is like coming out of a coma from a bad accident –I'm not really sure I am glad I survived knowing I have to face my new reality. I can't shut down the memories and thoughts in my head. Every single word he said, the look on his face when he finally saw what I was capable of, every single ounce of pain I heaped on to this man – it just isn't possible to hate myself more.

I glance at the nightstand to see how long I have been out. Tanya left me a huge bottle of water and a couple of Advil. She also left me a little note.

B-

Make sure to take the Advil and to SIP the entire bottle of water over the next few hours. I don't want you puking all day, I told Ang you were sick and she is going to bring notes for your Lit class this afternoon since I didn't think you would feel like going. Get some rest – Rose and I will be around this evening if you feel up to talking.

T-

Seriously, she is such a good friend. But the huge bitch that has taken ownership of my body rolls her eyes at the note. Um yeah, you forgot to add the PS that informed me you had taken the bottle of Advil with you and removed all sharp objects from the room.

And on that nasty note, I pull the covers over my head and fall into another fitful sleep.

A few hours later, I hear a small knock on my door. It is so quiet, the hopeful part of me secretly thinks that it may be Mike with coffee and pastries and a newfound willingness to forgive me… then fuck me. As I pass the mirror on my way to answer it, I take note of my reflection in the mirror. Eyes swollen, haystack hair, and morning breath that can thin paint – I decide that make-up sex is out of the question.

Slowly I open the door and can't mask my disappointment fast enough. Our friend Angela Weber stands in my doorway taking in my questionable appearance. For all intents and purposes, I think I'm pulling off the illness excuse flawlessly.

Angela and I are both English majors. We met in Freshman Comp 101 and have tried to navigate the English major coursework together. She is a super sweet girl, a pastor's daughter as a matter of fact. She is like Sandra D from Grease – entirely too pure to be pink.

"Hey Bells. I brought you the notes from class. You didn't miss much, other than Lauren Mallory trying to wax intellectual on "the power of female perspective" in the literary world. And by "power of female perspective", I mean she was flashing her panties at Professor Banner and his T.A." She snorts.

The miniscule portion of the decent human being in me is able to force my lips to move into a sad smirk. Clearly perceptive, Ang takes in my expression then gives me the pity look that you give someone when they are clearly responsible for their own unhappiness. Surely she couldn't know. T and I have the don't ask, don't tell policy until the other person is ready to discuss the matter at hand.

Angela follows me into my room as I flop down onto my bed, reassuming my position since coming home from my literal walk of shame. I steal a glance at Ang, hoping she will get the hint that I don't really want to have a slumber party and braid each other's hair. I can tell she is hemming and hawing as she pulls her notes out of her bag. Finally, she puts on her brave girl face and squares her shoulders.

"So, how are you doing with the break-up?" She has the sheer balls to ask me.

I narrow my eyes at her at first in anger, but then in confusion. My heart speeds up and my mind goes into overdrive. We're broken up? Like officially? I thought he said "he couldn't do this" but he also said he "needed time". WHAT. THE. FUCK? I can feel my breathing becoming shallow and the urge to purge becoming increasingly difficult to resist. I try to compose my bitch face.

"Who told you?" I quietly ask.

She bites her lip seemingly deciding to answer slowly to build suspense or she is debating on how to tell me that I am the talk of the town in a sensitive manner. Come on Ang, rip the band-aid off… Clearing her throat, it is painfully obvious that this conversation is uncomfortable at best.

"I read it on Facebook last night. Mike changed his status to Single."

And there it is, not only is it being spread around by word of mouth, surely speculation running rampant, it is in black and white, no gray, no question. Over. My hands start to tremble and I bite my lip so hard trying to stop the quivering that I am sure I draw blood. I clear my throat and look to Ang.

"Um. Have you seen him?" I whisper.

Her eyes never leave mine as she slowly shakes her head no. I know she desperately wants to ask me what happened that could possibly bring down Mike and Bella. I am sure there has been an excessive amount of chatter amongst our peers, everyone offering their own assumptions, creative theories and guesswork on the cause of our demise. I am certain that there were even secret celebrations that Mike was back on the market.

I jump up and grab my laptop off the desk and bring it back to my bed. Angela makes a move to stop me, but clearly the masochistic bag of crazy look I have on my face stops her in her tracks. She still tries to caution me with her eyes. Pulling up my homepage, it appears that there are three messages, one notification and one friend request. I shut my eyes tightly knowing I have to get Angela the fuck out of here because I was T-minus 30 seconds to being a bawl baby mess. I blow out a breath I had no idea I was holding.

"Thanks for bringing the notes for me Ang. I owe you one." I say quietly. "I'm actually not feeling so hot; can I catch up with you later or something?" I look up at her, my eyes pleading.

"Sure thing, Bells! Let me know if you are still feeling sick and I will get you the notes for Thursday's class too." She responds just as quietly, slightly hesitant like she doesn't really want to leave me to my own devices.

She gives me a small wave, a sympathetic smile and shows herself to the door.

Turning back to face the music, I swallow thickly as I click on the notification. I knew it. It was advising of Mike's new status and gave me the options to select what my new status should be. Unfortunately they didn't list "Lying Ingrate" or "Suicide Watch" as statuses, so I just went with the third most accurate - Single.

Clearly on a roll, I click on the first message. It's a frantic note from Alice telling me to call her and asking why I wasn't answering my cell phone. I know I will have to call her this evening. The only thing more frightening than Rosalie is scary pixie Alice going ape-shit on your ass. Not looking forward to that conversation.

I click on the second message from my mom.

Bella,

Sweetie, what happened? You sounded so happy in your email yesterday and now this. Probably for the best that it happened now anyway before you were married and saddled with a kid or two. Trust me, this is for the best. Now go out and have some fun. I'll call you this weekend!

I love you!

-Mom

Aww, thanks Mom, subtle and sensitive as always. Is it possible to want to hug and punch someone in the face every single time you come into contact with them? Because that pretty much sums up what I'd like to do to her… repeatedly.

Finally, I move on to the third message. My stomach drops and I run to the bathroom to dry heave. After a DEFCON 5 level meltdown, I return to my bed to face the music. The message is from Mike's mom. As if it wasn't possible to hit a new low, not only have I hurt Mike, I didn't even consider what this would do to his family. I brace myself as I open the message.

Bella,

My heart is breaking for you two right now. Just know that I love you both and I hope that you can find a way back to each other. I am always here if you need someone to talk to. Mike Sr. sends his love as well! Take care baby girl and don't be a stranger.

Love,

Karen

Loud sobs rack my body as I fall further down the shame spiral. Truly, my selfishness knows no bounds. I'm confident that I'm going to hell, if I'm not there already. I rub my eyes, and move on to the friend request. Honestly, I am so sick with myself I consider ignoring the request giving this unknown person a reprieve from the pain I am so eagerly inflicting on those I claim to care about.

Edward Cullen would like to be friends. Confirm. Ignore.

Seriously, am I being Punked? Where's Ashton? I feel guilty that I can't fight the hint of a small smile that plays on my lips as I read the friend request over and over again. Shrugging my shoulders, I hit the confirm button. If I am already going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly.

~~~ IYR ~~~

It had been three days since I got the big boot. Three days of avoiding friends and family, phone-calls, you know, basically all forms of human contact. I skipped classes, relying solely on the kindness of others to keep up academic appearances for me. Last night, Rose enforced a mandatory shower decree. Apparently I smelled like a foot and I had Nick Nolte DUI mug-shot hair. I fought the good fight, but then Rose threatened to strip me naked and toss me in the shower like a correctional officer on OZ. Fact, fighting naked is never okay, unless you are starring in a porn movie or are Viggo Mortensen. Only then would it be remotely acceptable. Although it felt good to shower and brush my teeth, I still wasn't prepared to face the world so I jumped back into my bed, content to watch the Game Show Network until I fell asleep.

On the fourth day, I am jolted awake by a slamming door and a very determined Tanya and Rosalie stalking towards me. They circle me in my fortress of solitude. Clearly, this is an intervention. All that is missing are the folding chairs, store bought cookies, and the creepy guy from A&E assuring me that everyone in the room loves me very much.

"Bella," Tanya begins, "It's been four days, doll. Rose and I, we just – "

"We want you to cut the shit." Rosalie interrupts, her tone ice cold.

Tanya gives her a stern eyebrow. It appears that she is not aware of Rose's good cop/bad cop game plan. Naturally, Rose shrugs as tact in sensitive situations is not her forte. Tanya refocuses her attention back to the matter at hand and continues.

"We just think that it would help you to maybe talk about what happened…"

I stare down at my comforter which is suddenly morbidly fascinating. So quiet, I almost don't hear myself; I ask her, "How much did you hear?"

Tanya sucks in a short breath and just as quietly answers, "Just enough to know why you've been beating yourself up for the past few days."

Nodding slowly, I raise my eyes to meet the concerned expressions of my best friends. For the next hour, I proceed to tell them everything. Every word from the break-up, every justification in my head for my selfishness, right down to the damning comparison to my ungrateful mother. They listen with rapt fascination, clearly understanding that I need to just say these things aloud, kind of talk this out with myself. At the end of my confession, I can barely breathe, sobbing uncontrollably.

And like the night of the break-up, Tanya wraps her arms around me and lets me cry until I don't have a tear left to shed. Only this time, she coos reassurances that I am not the monster that I think I am. Assuring me that I deserve to be loved and fulfilled and that it isn't wrong to voice my needs. Once I am finally able to contain my emotions, Rosalie stands up and grabs her bag, making a show of unzipping it.

"Alright girls, enough with the heavy," she pulls out her iPod and places it in our Bose. "I made a new playlist for you Bells."

The beginning chords of Matricia Berg's Back in the Saddle starts to play. Rose begins singing and dancing along while popping the caps off of some Mike's Hard Lemonades. I can't help but smile as my friends dance around the room like idiots as the playlist continues. It surely has to be the drinks that are dulling my instincts to retreat back to my bed and encourages me to sing and dance along as well. Rummaging through her Mary Poppins bag, Rose pulls out what appears to be Hawaiian sarongs. She throws one at me.

"Alice made these for us. This was her contribution to your intervention. She wants you to pair it with the candy red tube top she made for you this summer." She informs matter of factly.

Alice is a majoring in Fashion Design at The Art Institute of Seattle. Her designs are brilliant, bringing out the inner fashion plate in all of us. The sarong was gorgeous, vibrant large flowers popping off a black back drop. I'll admit I am totally into the idea of wearing it until I remember that it is the dead of winter, there are no tropical destinations within thousands of miles from here and I am as pasty as a bottle of Elmer's glue.

"Yeah, um, cute. Uh, what's this for again?" I ask perplexed.

"The Come-on-I-wanna-lei-ya party." Rose and Tanya answer in unison.

I shake my head furiously, "No guys, I am SO not ready for prime-time." I resist, neatly folding Alice's creation and placing it near Rose's bag of tricks.

Rose's eyebrow arches higher than I've ever seen it go. My reluctance is clearly viewed as an unwelcome challenge to undermine her grand plan. I hold completely still because right now she's like a T-rex and any sign of movement will surely set her off. Clearly sensing my hesitation, in an unlikely move, Rosalie goes old-school on me. So fast I almost don't see it, she stomps her foot and slams her fists against her hips.

"B-E-L-L-A!" she shrieks, "Cut the shit! You're going! The end. Now get your thumb out of your ass and get in the shower!"

Cowering slightly like the pussy I am, I look to Tanya for possible back up. Although her expression is one of understanding, it also silently screams, "Run, bitch, run".

Rolling my eyes, I grab the remainder of my fourth Hard Lemonade and chug it. As I slam it on my nightstand, I mutter "Fuck it" and grab my shower stuff. I can hear the girls cheering and high fiving each other, congratulating each other on a job well done. I have to smile because I knew I couldn't ask for better people in my life.

The scalding water is just what I need to get myself into the right mindset for this evening. For the first time, I'm painfully honest with myself. A part of me is terrified to go out tonight. Is it too soon to allow myself a night off from the near constant self-deprecation? Will I be judged by a jury of my peers for coming out of seclusion only four days post break-up? Will it get back to Mike that I celebrated my new found freedom by donning a hula outfit, dancing and drinking my ass off?

Mulling over all possible outcomes, I am suddenly fuming. This must be the next stage of the grief cycle – uncontrollable anger. As I furiously begin shaving my legs, as all of his hateful words and the names he called my friends came back to me. Every condescending remark, every single time he told me what was and wasn't "me". It was all of a sudden abundantly clear to me that my feelings were never taken into consideration. Didn't I deserve a say in how I felt loved? Shouldn't my needs be equally as important as his?

At this realization, the weight of the guilt I'd been carrying seemed to lighten. My heart would always be broken for hurting the boy I loved. I knew it was a distinct possibility that I would never find another love like the one that Mike and I shared and that I ran the risk of spending the rest of my life alone. But with a new found confidence, I know now more than ever that I owe myself the opportunity to find a more balanced love, a more fulfilling love, and hopefully - a lasting love.

A/N… Wash that guy right out of your hair, Bella! Because you have a hot and dirty boy waiting to lei ya! Party time, dolls! *LayAtHomeMom sways in grass skirt and adjusts coconut bra*

Posted this chapter tonight because the hubs surprised me with tickets to an early screening of BD2... Someone is going to get 50 shades of laid and his name starts with Mr. and ends with LayAtHomeMom...

Next chapter will post on Sunday as per usual. Just wanted to say thank you to all of those who have read, reviewed, followed and fav'd this fic. The response has been really amazing and I am so grateful!